


A Weasley Family Christmas Tradition

by earth_dragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas fic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn’t much care for Ron’s maroon Weasley jumpers either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Weasley Family Christmas Tradition

Ron groaned as he picked up the lumpy package. Mrs. Weasley cast him a stern look. Fred and George snickered while the rest of the family merely grinned and rolled their eyes. Hermione huffed good naturedly. Fleur watched, quietly amused but no longer bewildered after having been with Bill for so long. Harry hid a sly smile; he was, by now, quite used to the argument that was about to take place between Ron and his Mum. It was a Weasley family Christmas tradition, but everyone found it amusing nonetheless.

“Aw, Mum, why does it always have to be maroon?” Ron whined.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a scathing look. “Well, if you don’t want me to make you one…” she started haughtily.

“No, no!” Ron replied quickly, trying to placate her. “I love the jumpers. It’s just, well… you know I don’t like maroon.”

If the truth were told, maroon really wasn‘t Harry‘s favorite color, either. If Ron _had_ to get dressed, Harry preferred him in green.

“Nonsense! Maroon’s your color, just ask anyone.”

That, of course, was Fred and George’s cue and they sprang into action.

“Oh, YES! Ickle Ronnikins looks so ADORABLE!” exclaimed Fred.

“Yes, he does!” replied George, his voice dripping with saccharine, and he pinched Ron’s cheeks just before he tackled Ron to the floor.

Ron, of course, struggled and bellowed (who was he to break tradition?) but Fred eventually shoved the jumper down over his head and forced his arms at least half-way up through the sleeves. Mrs. Weasley pointedly ignored the tussle for a few moments (it was no secret this was the one time all year that she actually encouraged the twins’ antics; the fact that Ron _always_ ended up wearing his new jumper afterwards was merely coincidence, surely.) while Harry and the rest of the family laughed and pointed, and made fun at Ron’s expense.

Finally the twins relented and Ron sat back up, scowling. “I didn’t say I wanted to wear it right now!” Ron growled.

“But you’re so CUTE!” Fred started in again.

Ron rose to his feet and started for his wand. “I’m gonna— ”

Mrs. Weasley finally intervened. “Boys! That’s enough.”

Ron gave his brothers one last glare, but pocketed his wand and sat back down. He caught the smirk on Harry’s face and gave him a quick glare as well. But when Harry gave him a genuine, warm smile, Ron smiled back, even if it was a bit bashfully.

Mrs. Weasley huffed a bit and unsuccessfully tried to hide a yawn. It had been a good and happy day, but a long one. Still, she couldn’t resist taking one last dig at Ron, as per her Mother’s rights (nineteen hours worth of labor ought to earn her _something_!) “I don’t see why it takes your brothers wrestling you to the floor to get you into your new jumper or why you fight me on the color, but every year we go through the same thing,” she said not with amusement, exactly, but rather dismissively, as if she knew she was going to have to keep fighting this battle for many years to come, but she didn’t mind it, not _really_.

“I just don’t like maroon, Mum,” Ron replied with a hint of a sheepish grin that ensured that the Weasley family tradition was to carry on for a long time.

“Yes, dear, so you have mentioned. Well, at least Harry and Hermione agree with me, don’t you, dears?”

Hermione’s eyebrows nearly rose off of her head, but she nodded vigorously. Mrs. Weasley looked vindicated.

“He looks good in maroon,” Harry answered.

Mrs. Weasley positively glowed at him.

The ends of Harry’s mouth curled up in an impish smile. It was so nice to be part of a real family; to be accepted and loved; to have ridiculous Christmas traditions to laugh at. And meddle with. “To be honest though, I think Ron’s best color is probably sea green.”

Every head in the room, including Ron’s, turned to look at him. Mrs. Weasley stared openly at him for just a moment, her mouth dropped open just the tiniest bit. Ron’s mouth dropped so wide open that he looked like a cod fish. Harry just continued to smile. Mrs. Weasley began to scowl just a bit; everyone else sat in silence, except, of course, for the twins, who were snickering again.

“Yes, well, he does look nice in green as well.” Mrs. Weasley politely, if grudgingly, confirmed.

Harry nodded once and worked hard to keep from grinning like a loon. Maybe it was because he never really had a family when he was growing up, or because he never felt safe or loved enough to tease someone in full, loving confidence, but Harry felt positively cheeky at the moment. He knew he shouldn’t, really. Mrs. Weasley had always been so good and kind to him; but it was such a heady feeling just knowing that he could get away with this, that he could tease and joke and she would still love him tomorrow; he would still be part of the family.

He surveyed everyone else’s faces; they all knew it wasn’t over quite yet. Ron certainly knew: he was blushing. Harry met Ron’s bright blue eyes for a lingering moment. Ron thought he was insane but Harry could tell he was willing to go along with whatever Harry had planned. It was so very nice to belong to such an accepting family.

Harry let the quiet settle comfortably over the room for just a moment. Mrs. Weasley’s face relaxed and she took another sip of her eggnog. Then Harry disturbed the peace and said, “Brings out the color of his eyes.”

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and her brows pinched ever so slightly; she knew she was being teased and she was determined not to let it get the best of her. She would NOT lose her composure. After all, that would be as good as conceding defeat. She sniffed delicately. “I’m sure it does.”

Ron’s face was in danger of actually bursting into flame and he tried to hide behind Charlie, who refused to let him. Every one in the room bit through their tongues to keep from laughing, even Mr. Weasley and Fleur were hiding definite smiles. Fred and George were near mirthful tears.

Harry had been close to death several times; he was a Gryffindor for goodness’ sakes, he had it in him to dare the reaper at least once more. “Sets off his hair nicely, too.”

Harry had expected it to be Fred, but it was actually Ginny that cracked first. Her high-pitched giggle echoed through the room despite her best efforts to muffle it. She clamped both hands over her mouth and doubled over, trying to reign in her giggle fit, but her shoulders were clearly shaking. And once she was off it was like a chain reaction: everyone tried their best to hold back but the room sounded as if it was filled with sneezing cats, which was funny in itself. Pretty soon, the muffled, nasally, sneezing cat sound became a series of small explosions as someone just couldn’t take the pressure anymore and had to laugh out loud.

Mrs. Weasley huffed as she surveyed the room. She had clearly been bested, if even just for a moment. Fred and George were rolling on the floor, clutching each other for support; Ginny was giggling loudly and encouraging Hermione and Fleur to stop hiding their giggles behind their hands; Bill was chuckling next to his father; and Charlie was guffawing and thumping a still red-faced but laughing Ron. Harry himself was only barely laughing; he would laugh later, right now he wanted to just savor the moment and store it away in his memory. He wanted to remember every detail of everyone’s faces, even Mrs. Weasley’s, because he knew she was only scowling because that was what was expected of her as the Sensible Mother.

“You know, nothing much surprises me when it comes to our unruly brood,” began Mrs. Weasley, who clearly intended to take back control, “But I’d think you might have a bit more sense than to carry on like this, Arthur Weasley.”

Mr. Weasley’s laughter tamed down almost immediately, but the sparkle never left his eyes. “Yes, Molly dear, it is getting quiet late, and tomorrow is Boxing Day, after all. I suppose we should all think about heading up to bed.” He turned ever so slightly and caught Harry’s eye and winked, under Mrs. Weasley’s radar, of course. Both Harry and Mr. Weasley knew there was a bit of damage control to be done, but Arthur didn’t mind, not _really._

The laughter in the room slowly faded out to a pleasant low hum of general chatting and rustling as everyone stood to gather their things and bid each other goodnight. All rakish behavior of only a few moments ago was forgotten as Mrs. Weasley hugged and kissed every one of her children and wished them one final Happy Christmas. Ron was still a bit pink but he put up no fight whatsoever when she kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley. Happy Christmas,” Harry said when it was his turn to be embraced.

“Happy Christmas, dear. Goodnight, love.” Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry for just a moment, gave his cheek a good firm pinch, and then kissed his other cheek. She smirked at him but made sure no one else saw it. After all, that would be breaking with tradition, and as the sensible mother, she couldn’t do that, not _really_.

Harry made his own rounds: he hugged Hermione, Ginny and Fleur; shook hands with Bill and Charlie; and got caught in a headlock each by Fred and George. Then Mr. Weasley came over and thumped him heartily on the back before squeezing his shoulder warmly; he turned a bit so Mrs. Weasley couldn’t see him, smiled knowingly and said, “Right then, good show, Harry. Happy Christmas”

Harry looked up at him and saw the twinkling in Mr. Weasley’s eyes, so like the twinkling found in his childrens’ eyes, and he nearly burst out laughing. That would have been utterly disastrous and gotten both of them in trouble, and for a moment Harry was in a near panic, but then —

“Arthur, are you coming?” Mrs. Weasley asked tiredly from the foot of the stairs.

“Yes, dear, I’m on my way,” he answered without hesitation. He turned back to Harry one more time, his mouth quirked. “Goodnight, Harry.”

The exchange between them gave Harry the time he needed to collect himself again, and he calmly replied, “Goodnight, Mr. Weasley.” As Ron came over to stand beside him, their hands just brushing, it was with a great warm feeling that he watched Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gently link their fingers and start upstairs for the night.

Everyone else began to make their way up the stairs and Harry and Ron watched as they drifted off into their rooms two by two: first Fred and George, then Fleur and Bill, then Charlie (who didn’t have to share a room with anybody), and lastly Ginny and Hermione. Finally, when they were left alone near the top of the loft, Ron turned and looked at Harry incredulously. “I cannot believe you did that, Harry! What were you thinking? I thought Mum was going to go spare!”

Harry quickly opened the door and ushered them inside Ron’s room. He magically warded and soundproofed the room. Ron may have thought he was crazy, but he also knew Ron thought it was funny, and brave and brilliant; Harry could tell by the way Ron’s eyes were shining (a lot his father’s) and he was trying so hard not to smile. Harry shrugged and grinned playfully.

Harry looked at Ron; Ron looked at Harry. Both of them finally burst apart laughing. They had been bottling their laughter up inside for so long that it was torture. They let themselves crumple to the floor as tears ran down their hot faces. Harry clutched a stitch in his side. “You always tell her you hate maroon and you get away with it. I just wanted to see what I could get away with for once. I could never do something like that at the Dursleys‘.”

“Which is why they’re not your family anymore, we are!” Ron replied loudly, happily, his smile bursting through. “But honestly, Harry, _sea green?_ Maybe you’re the one that’s mental.” Ron laughed again.

“Actually, I was being honest about that,” Harry answered, calming down somewhat; his smile curled again near the corners of his mouth and his laughter dropped low.

“Huh?” Ron peered at him questioningly. “What do you mean?”

Harry didn’t answer, but leaned over and kissed Ron gently, sweetly, on the lips. When Ron gave a low, contented hum, Harry was sure the question had been forgotten anyway.

Perfect.

He eased back out of the kiss and looked Ron in the eyes — then he pulled out his wand, tapped Ron on the shoulder and banished his clothes, including his new maroon jumper.

“Ahhhh, Harry! Whaaa…” Ron squeaked, and he jumped back up to his feet.

Harry quickly scrambled to follow him. With no more warning than a quirk of his eyebrow and that impish grin, Harry pushed Ron down to the bed and cast a charm to bind his wrists to the headboard. Harry stared down at the naked and splayed Ron, and Ron could only dumbly stare back as he tried to recollect himself.

“Now then, as I was saying, about the sea green color,” Harry continued as if nothing unusual had happened at all. He pulled a small tube from his pocket; a tube that Ron wouldn’t recognize. “That happens to tie in with the current situation.”

“Does it?” Ron asked nonchalantly, or as nonchalantly as one could get while bound to the bed, naked, and watching their lover approach. “I was wondering.”

“You had a sea green tee shirt once and you looked great in it; it did wicked things for your eyes and hair.” Harry set down the tube and began to take off his own clothes. When he was naked, he picked the tube up and crawled up on the bed. He straddled Ron’s hips. Ron was starting to go that red color again. Harry loved that; it would go with the green and make Ron look all Christmassy.

“Ah, well, I’m glad you approved,” Ron said huskily.

“Oh, I did. But I must confess. I’ve been a bit naughtier than I let on tonight,” Harry told him as he unscrewed the cap from the tube. “You see, while I was doing some of my Christmas shopping, I happened across this store that sold some rather interesting products. I thought perhaps I’d find something special for you, but it turns out I’m rather greedy.” Harry squeezed the tube over Ron’s chest and drew a thin, zigzagging line of sea green from nipple to nipple. “I’m afraid you’ll have to share your gift with me.” Harry bent over and licked the very tip of his tongue back and forth across the sea green line.

Ron gasped and arched his back, pressing his skin (and the flavored, sea green body paint) into Harry’s mouth. Harry chuckled and gently bit at Ron’s nipple. He swirled a bit of the flavored paint over the hardened nub with his tongue, and then laughed out loud again when Ron hissed and pulled at his wrist restraints.

“Ye- yeah, well…” Ron panted, “Guess I don’t mind sharing this one too much. Glad we didn’t open it in front of the rest of the family, though!”

“But then your Mother would have seen for herself just how good you look in sea green.”

Ron raised his head sharply. “HARRY!”

Harry looked at him with all of the wide-eyed innocence he could muster (it didn‘t help at all, however, when he realized he still had some body paint smeared across his lips and the only logical thing to do was to lick it off).

“That’s it! This is the last time we’re coming here for Christmas,” Ron declared.

But it wasn’t. When Christmastime came around the next year Harry waited with bated breath for Ron to pass him the tiny, wrapped box. He already knew what was inside, and frankly, couldn’t care less what the ring looked like. He just wanted his husband-to-be to actually say the words. He wanted his family (they had always been his family, lawfully or not) to whoop and holler, and sweep them into congratulatory hugs, and give them far too many suggestions about their future wedding.

They could all make fun of Ron’s new maroon jumper a bit later.


End file.
